


no rest for the wicked

by stolashoots



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Gen, babysitting au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stolashoots/pseuds/stolashoots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To avoid taking out a loan to pay for schooling, Chris starts an underground day care. Because watching a couple children will be easy, or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and so it begins (or, a good idea)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by conversations between myself and bus <33 Thank you so much

Christopher Arklight considers himself a good person; after all, he always pays his bills on time and occasionally donates his old clothes to those less fortunate. Sure, he might not be a saint, and he’s asked his friends for the answers to homework instead of doing it himself more than once before, but everyone has character flaws, right?

Regardless of the slight blemishes on his records, Chris Arklight does not deserve this.

He scrunches up his face at the piece of perfect white printer paper, at the perfect crease in the center, at the perfectly unsmudged letters spelling out his doom. Chris considers for a long moment to return the letter to its envelope and simply pretend he never saw it, but no, that would mean running away, and running away won’t solve his problems.

He’s being cut off. Or, more accurately, his parents have decided they no longer want to help pay for his tuition and cost of living. Now, perhaps if his parents were like normal average income parents, this wouldn’t be too bad, after all, he’s pretty smart and knows how to use the internet to Google ways to live on a budget. Only, Chris’ family is loaded and he can clearly see the return address on the envelope says Hawaii of all places, so he’s more than a bit suspicious when the letter claims they’ve hit a rough patch.

Reading over the letter again, he thinks over ways of convincing his parents that this is a very bad idea, maybe he can cut down on spending to compromise, but there’s no way he’ll be able to survive the next four years of higher education without any form of income, not without taking a loan.

Chris drops the letter to the table and stands to shuffle over to the cabinet across the room. He opens it and pulls out his green folder, the one he keeps all the past bills in, then returns to his seat. He flips through the contents, mentally counting up his monthly expenses, and finds it’s not unreasonably high. Sure, maybe he doesn’t need to go out to restaurants most nights, but not eating isn’t an option.

The little notebook at his elbow, previously used to jot down questions to ask his professors, becomes an impromptu to-do list of changes he could make in his daily life to lower expenses. After an hour of scowling and scribbling, his phone beeps, and it’s time to rush to class.

***

A week passes with no word from his parents, no “LOL early April fools,” and Chris can only assume that they were being dead serious about this. As much as it irks him, it appears that he’s on his own now, and from the looks of his bank account, he only has so much time to ponder over options before he needs to get a job. Luckily, this semester’s worth of tuition has already been covered, so he only has to worry about monthly living expenses for now.

He’s down to ‘get a part time job at a fast food restaurant’ or ‘sell my left kidney’ when he suddenly has an epiphany. Babysitting. He could babysit some brats for a couple hours a day during the semester. Since he only has morning lectures, he could pick the kids up from school when it lets out and watch them until their parents finish work. This way, he could earn money without even having to leave his apartment, and if he took on a bunch of children, he won’t have to worry about his bank account for a while longer.

The plan is foolproof. Chris starts by making an advertisement in a popular day care forum. After wasting over two hours creating a page for his services and printing out a thick stack of papers to hang around campus and the city tomorrow, he calls it quits.

***

**Christopher Arklight’s Day Care Services**

**Open Weekdays after 12:30 and Weekends All Day**

**Home Address: XXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Phone Number: XXX-XXX-XXXX**

**Cost: 1,200¥ Per Hour**

**Notes:**

**\- I know CPR**

**\- Will feed dinner at 4 pm, costs extra. Otherwise, please send them with food, donate food, or pick them up before then**

**\- Dinner changes daily, but I will be providing them with foods of different cultures other than Japan**

**\- I am currently majoring in astrophysics and can help with all types of homework**

**\- I have years of experience babysitting younger relatives**

**\- Can entertain children with educational videos, books, toys, and coloring**

**Christopher Arklight’s Day Care Services**

**No Questions Asked**

***

The real challenge begins on a dreary Thursday. While he’s at a lecture learning about the history of Japan, a class he’s required to take, thick, heavy clouds roll in and begin spilling their contents. As the heavens pour down rain, Chris steels himself and jumps into the fray, determined to hang up his flyers in a timely manner. Luckily, he thought ahead and spent a few yen to laminate a good portion of his advertisements so they won’t be damaged by the elements.

He starts first around campus, headed towards the areas designated for students to post information about clubs and other activities. Well, this is technically neither, but it won’t hurt to staple his flyers to the boards and hope someone sees it before it gets taken down. Chris finds three of the areas, the fourth eluding him, and pins his flyers to the top, not caring that his papers cover up a few others.

Next, Chris goes out to the rest of the city, stapling his notices against pristine wooden telephone posts. He spends over an hour tacking them around where he predicts needy parents will see, and is just about to call it quits when someone taps on his shoulder.

He turns to see a woman with long blonde hair holding a black umbrella, standing close enough to Chris that they’re both relieved from the rain.

“Excuse me,” she says with a smile, “Are you Christopher Arklight?” When he nods blankly she continues. “Hello, I’m Mirai Tsukumo, I was wondering about your daycare.”

“Oh, yeah.” That. Chris honestly hadn’t expected someone to approach him so soon. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. My child is in early elementary and is let out after lunch. Will you be able to pick him up then, or will he have to walk?” She begins.

Chris wonders how many questions Ms. Tsukumo have to ask before answering, “He goes to Heartland Elementary? Yes, I can pick him up, I live only a few blocks away.”

“Do you have any references that I can call to see that you’re a trustworthy person?”

Shit, he hadn’t prepared any in advance, he was going to have to think fast. “Y-yes, would one of my professors work? I’ve known her for three years.” She was the one who had convinced Chris to enroll into Heartland University instead of another school. He recites her email address and Ms. Tsukumo types it into her phone.

“When is the earliest you can start?”

“Tomorrow, or today, if you’d like, though it’s a bit late.”

Ms. Tsukumo nods slowly, then reaches into her pocket and hands over what looks to be a business card. It has her full name, phone number, and email written in shiny blue letters. “You’re hired,” she states, which is a shock considering she asked for a reference and Chris is certain she hasn’t had time to check up on that yet. “I need you to watch my son tomorrow. His name is Yuma, he’s this high,” she holds up her hand a bit over waist height. She goes on to describe his eye and hair color, red and pink and black apparently, and that he’ll wait by the entrance of the school for Chris to get him.

“Tomorrow,” Chris repeats.

“Yes, tomorrow. I, er, didn’t know I needed him watched until a few hours ago.” She looks away at this as if ashamed before brightening up again. “Also, he’s going to ask you a secret question before he’ll leave with you,” Ms. Tsukumo says with a wink. “’When will per capita GDP in China exceed the per capita GDP in the US?’ And then you answer with, ‘2073.’ It’s simple, just remember the number ‘2073’ and tell it to him tomorrow. Oh, is it alright if I pay you when I come to pick him up?”

Chris nods, searing the year into his memory. “Yes, that works. I’ll be by the school gates on time. Is there anything else?”

Ms. Tsukumo shakes her head and they part ways, Chris ecstatic to having been hired so soon.

***

At exactly one, Chris reaches the school gates of Heartland Elementary School. An ocean of short brats stand waiting for their parents to pick them up, or trickle away to walk home by themselves. It doesn’t take long for him to locate Yuma, his hair sticks out like a raft in a sea of children.

Chris walks through the kids, coming to a stop when he reaches Yuma. “Are you Yuma Tsukumo?” He asks, attempting to soften his face so he isn’t completely frowning.

The brat, Yuma, looks up from the card game he’s playing with one of his little friends. His eyes widen at the sight of Chris, and one of his friends, a girl with a ribbon in her hair jumps to her feet. “Who are you,” she asks.

“Christopher Arklight, I’m Yuma’s daycare watcher. Yuma, do you remember the question your mom told you to ask me?” The kid shakes his head, and Chris sighs. Of course not. “Well, the answer is ‘2-0-7-3.’”

Yuma’s eyes light up in recognition. “Oh! Mom told me about you.” He begins collecting his cards, shoves them into his pocket, and stands. “Okay, we can go now. Bye.” Yuma waves to his friends, who recite their goodbyes, all eyes trained on Chris as if he’s a caged animal at a zoo.

Chris quickly drags his charge off of the school grounds and to his apartment, both silent. When he unlocks his door and ushers Yuma inside, he finally speaks. “Make yourself at home, Yuma. Do you have any homework to do?” Hopefully so, he isn’t sure how else he could go about entertaining the kid for a questionable amount of time. There is always television, he owns a few child-friendly movies they could watch, and a few books Yuma might be able to read.

Yuma nods, kicking off his shoes by the door and shrugging off his backpack. “Yeah. I usually wait until Sunday to do it, but I could do it now.” He wanders over to the small table in the living room and pulls a few papers and a pencil out of his backpack. Once Chris has determined that the kid is occupied, he sits on the couch and begins on his own homework, reading a few chapters out of his textbooks.

They continue in this fashion for nearly an hour, the only sound coming from Yuma’s pencil or Chris flipping a page, until Yuma turns to him. “Mr. Arklight?”

“Just Chris is fine,” Chris says, furrowing his eyebrows at the printed text in front of him. The book is claiming that a dead bird in a story symbolizes lost freedom and foreshadows the ending, but he certainly hadn’t picked that up the first time he read it. A dead bird is a dead bird; if the author had wanted to convey that message, they should have just stated it.

“Okay. Chris, can you help me with this problem? Number thirteen.” Yuma hands over the worksheet. It’s math, Chris deduces, simple multiplication to be exact. The question Yuma pointed out is 7 x 8, nothing too difficult; Chris comes up with the answer in less than a second, having spent so many years dealing with this kind of math.

Knowing that just giving Yuma the answer wouldn’t help him learn, and since Chris is supposed to at least try to be responsible now, he attempts something different. “Have you tried adding the number seven eight times? Do you want some scrap paper so you can write it out?”

Yuma shakes his head for the first question, then nods at the second. Chris gets up to search his bedroom for some lined paper he isn’t currently using, and brings back two sheets for Yuma to write on. Yuma takes them and starts again on the problem. Chris watches, and when Yuma seems to get the correct answer, he returns to reading about literature.

Another half an hour later, Yuma shuffles his papers into his backpack.

“You’re finished?” Chris asks, “Have anything specific you want to do now?”

Yuma looks around the room, eyes unfocused for a second, before turning to Chris. “Can I watch TV? Dad lets me watch cartoons after I do my homework.”

Chris has to fish for the remote between the couch cushions, and then hands it over to the kid. “Just keep the volume down.” Having experience in ignoring loud and irritating noises at the local library, Chris doubts that whatever Yuma puts on will impede his concentration, so he doesn’t suggest a more quiet activity.

The time before Ms. Tsukumo arrives passes quickly, and soon Chris hears a knock on the door and gets up to answer it. Behind him, Yuma jumps to his feet and races to his mother, hugging her.

Ms. Tsukumo smiles down at her child. “What’s this for, you saw me only a couple of hours ago.” She looks up. “Was Yuma good for you?”

Chris nods and steps back to give them space. “Yes, he was pretty quiet. He hasn’t eaten yet, but he got all of his homework down.”

“My Yuma? Quiet?” She laughs. “Well, I suppose he’ll warm up to you at some point, don’t worry.” That sounds more than a bit ominous. “Here,” she hands over a wad of cash. “Are you alright with watching him again all next week?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Chris exchanges his goodbyes with the Tsukumo’s and they leave.

***

The weekend passes quickly, Chris spending the great majority of the time finishing up his homework and shopping around for toys for children. He buys a giant box of Legos and a dozen miniature dinosaur figurines and decides that’s enough to entertain Yuma for a couple of days. If Yuma really gets bored, Chris could break out his gaming systems and let the kid play an age appropriate game.

On Monday, he attends classes as usual, then picks up Yuma when he gets off. Yuma is thrilled to see the new toys, rushing through his homework so he can begin playing with them as soon as possible, building forts and towers and having the little dinosaurs live in them. He even names one of them “Astral” and talks to it often, though Chris can’t remember which figurine that is.

The next two days follow in a similar fashion, with Yuma slowly getting more comfortable around Chris and occasionally conversing with him or asking him questions. As this progresses, Chris begins noticing some… interesting things about Yuma. Sometimes he carries on half a conversation as if there is another person in the room, for instance, or suddenly answers a question that wasn’t asked. If Chris reacts to Yuma’s voice, the kid freezes as if he’s been caught doing something wrong, then goes back to playing with his toys.

It’s probably just an imaginary friend, Chris thinks, and he doesn’t ask Yuma or Ms. Tsukumo about it.

On Wednesday, when Yuma’s father comes to pick up his son, Chris meets the Mizuki’s, two middle aged parents who are friends with the Tsukumo’s and heard about Chris’ services through them. The whole introduction lasts only a few minutes, they just want to ask him a few questions and exchange contact information, and by the end of it, Chris has convinced another family to let him watch their child.

The next day, Chris picks up Yuma and Kotori, who turns out to be one of Yuma’s friends. Since they already know each other, this makes things a lot easier. Chris doesn’t know what he would have done if the two didn’t get along. His apartment isn’t that large, it’s not like he could keep them separated that easily.

Yuma and Kotori finish their homework quickly and have Chris check it for them, then go play with the Legos. Chris leaves them to it, preferring to skim a book on the basics of astrophysics he picked up from the library earlier that day instead of listening to them. Normally he would have just bought it, but due to budget cuts, he couldn’t exactly afford to buy every book that catches his interests anymore. It’s irritating to have to take notes on a piece of paper instead of the book itself, but he snaps pictures of anything he comes across that might be useful.

“Hey Chris, can we have a snack?” A voice pipes up beside him. Chris turns to see Kotori and Yuma standing beside the couch, a hopeful look on their faces. Chris checks the time – 3 O’clock – and nods. He gets up and they follow him to the small kitchen connected to the living room.

“I have saltines and goldfish,” Chris says, searching through his mostly empty cabinet. Man, he really needs to go out and buy some food; these snacks aren’t going to last them very long. And, maybe some variety as well, especially if he intends on giving them these kinds of snacks every day. He turns to see their confused expressions. “They’re… foreign. Uh, salty cracker squares or cheesy cracker fish.” He isn’t very surprised the two aren’t familiar with them, western comfort food is a pain to find in Japan, and he had to take a train out of town just to find a shop that sold these. He only considers it worth it since they remind him of home.

The children exchange glances. “The fish ones?” Kotori guesses. Chris nods and pours some into a plastic bowl.

“Here, you two can share. If your parents aren’t back by four, I’ll make dinner, okay?” Dinner being boxed macaroni and cheese that can be cooked up in less than fifteen minutes. Simple and quick, and it’s something the kids will eat.

Kotori inspects one of the fish-shaped crackers, frowning, while Yuma bites off the head of another. “Thanks Chris,” they say before heading back into the living room. Chris follows them and returns to the couch, keeping an ear out for them as they chatter about their snack.

“These taste funny,” Kotori whispers.

“Maybe foreign snacks aren’t meant to be yummy? And I don’t think these are made out of real fish…” Says Yuma.

“Chris said they’re crackers, but they taste like cheese. You could probably play with them if you wanted to because of their shape.” Kotori tries to make fish noises but fails. Yuma laughs, then grows silent for a moment.

“Astral says these don’t have any nutritional value to them. What’s that mean?”

Chris perks up at the name Astral; he’s heard Yuma say it before but hasn’t thought much of it in the past.

“Nutritional value? Doesn’t that mean they aren’t healthy?”

How do children even know of that phrase? Chris turns to look at the kids. They’ve sectioned off the goldfish into three piles on a piece of paper, and the two eat from their own pile. The last goes untouched.

“Who’s Astral,” Chris asks, because it was one thing when only Yuma knew about it, but now two of his kids knew and he doesn’t.

Yuma and Kotori freeze, looking at each other in horror. They both lean forward to whisper something, hiding their mouths with their hands so Chris can’t read their lips. Not that he knows how to do that. The kids being overly cautious makes him suspicious; he hadn’t thought his question was worth so much discussion over.

Yuma and Kotori reach a decision after a minute and pull away. “Astral’s my imaginary friend. They’re sitting right here.” Yuma points at a spot between him and Kotori.

“They’re my friend too,” Kotori says.

“’They?’ How many are there?” Chris asks, not quite understanding.

“Just one,” Yuma replies, then looks to the spot Astral is at. “Astral says we’re using the singular they, not the plural version, but I don’t know what that means.”

“Okay,” Chris says slowly. He had guessed right earlier, it was just an imaginary friend, something not worth worrying about. Only, Chris can’t help but feel as if this is more than something that simple. He keeps his mouth shut, and after a few minutes, the kids finish their snack, Yuma eating Astral’s portion of goldfish since “they didn’t like the taste,” and go back to playing.

Not knowing what else to do, Chris returns to his book. This whole Astral thing is just a small bump, he thinks, not that big of a deal. Babysitting is easy after all.


	2. thing one and thing two (or, thing III and thing IV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> III and IV enter the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to bus for the ideas & support <33

The next child begins with a phone call at two in the morning about a week later. The only reason why Chris answers it at all is because he’s expecting a call from his parents, part of him still hoping they’ll help him out with his living expenses or at least send him a check.

“Hello, is this Christopher Arklight?” A bright and cheery female voice chirps on the other line, as if it isn’t in the middle of the night.

“…Yes?” Chris asks, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes and grabbing the notebook and pen he keeps on his bedside table.

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’d like to hire you to babysit my son starting tomorrow. He goes to Heartland Elementary School and I’ll pick him up at seven. He’s old enough to walk to your address, and he should reach it not long after classes end.”

“Okay?”

No sooner does he confirm this does the line die. Chris pulls his phone away from his ear to squint at the bright screen. Well, that was strange, they didn’t even tell him their or their son’s name or contact information, much less ask Chris any questions like the other two parents did.

Oh well, there’s not much Chris can do about it (other than call back, but that would be too much effort), so he puts his phone and notebook away and goes back to sleep.

***

“You’re getting a new friend today,” Chis says as he walks Kotori and Yuma to his apartment.

“A new kid? What’re they like?” Yuma asks, exchanging looks with Kotori.

“Hand,” Chris takes their hands as they cross a street. “I don’t really know, I got a call late at night about it. He goes to your school, though.”

“Shouldn’t you know about the child before you accept the job?” This comes from Kotori, with Yuma nodding in agreement. Their eyes flick over to something behind Chris, and Kotori giggles.

Chris only escapes explaining that he’s an irresponsible adult when his home comes into view. “Oh, hey, look at that, there’s the apartment. Now, do you two have any homework to do?” He’s answered with a chorus of yeses. Chris hands Yuma the key to his front door and let them run ahead up the stairs while he quickly checks the mail. Two bills and a postcard from one of his aunts is retrieved from the mailbox, and then Chris follows the kids up to his home.

When he enters, he sees Yuma and Kotori have already started on their homework in the living room, Chris’ key left in sight for him to grab. “Need help with anything?” He asks, and they shake their heads. Chris gets his laptop from his room, checks the charge on it, and then moves to the couch to watch over the kids while working on a history report.

Chris is four hundred words and three sources into an essay on Isaac Newton when there’s a knock at his door. He looks up, then down at the kids and see them huddled together while reading a thin easy-reader book. They haven’t reacted yet, so he can only assume he heard nothing.

Only, no, less than a minute later, there’s another rap at the door, this time more intense. Both Yuma and Kotori glance between him and the door expectantly. Chris sets his laptop on the cushion beside him, then gets up, the kids jumping to their feet to follow him at a safe distance. He opens the door and finds… two children with strange hair standing in the doorway, eyeing each other. The shorter one has softer features and pink eyes and hair whereas the taller one looks angry, has a scar under his eye, and yellow and… brown? purple? red? hair.

“Uh,” says Chris. He’d only expected one child today, not two. Was there some kind of mix up?

“My mom called you,” the pink one tells him.

“You’re my new ‘sitter,” the other says at the same time.

So one of them was scheduled, and the other wasn’t. Great. “I need you parents to contact me before I can watch you. Get your parents to call me or something and I’ll watch you tomorrow. Go home.” Chris explains to the taller boy, waving the pink one inside. Behind him, he can hear as Yuma and Kotori greet the kid.

The blond puffs his cheeks in aggravation and narrows his eyes. “You have to take me _now_! My dad say he’ll pay when he comes to pick me up; you can’t just leave me on the streets, I’m a kid.”

Chris can already tell this kid’s going to be a menace. He rubs his temples, feeling a headache coming on. For what he knows, he isn’t responsible for the kid since he never gave verbal agreeance to watch him, but as the kid says, turning him away could be dangerous, and the kid’s parents expect him to be here later. “ _Fine_. Do you know you’re parents’ phone numbers so I can call them?” If he calls them, he’ll be able to make sure they do exist and know where their son is.

“I’m twelve, of course I don’t remember their numbers,” the kid grumbles, looks down, and shuffles his feet. “But I promise Dad will be here at six!”

Of course. _Of course_. This is just wonderful. Chris steps away from the door and allows the kid inside. “I need both of your names,” he sighs and rubs at his temples again. He needs coffee, but lord knows if he makes any, one of the kids might ask for some too, and the last thing he wants is to caffeinate them.

“It’s a secret!” Pink chimes in, then immediately turns back to Yuma and Kotori to complain about school lunches.

“I’m not telling _you_ ,” the other boy says, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up in the air.

“Fine. You,” Chris points at the pink haired boy, “you’re Three now. And you, you’re Four.”

Three scrunches up his nose, apparently dissatisfied with his new name, but it’s Four who lets out a noise in protest.

“How come he’s Three and I’m Four?”

Chris is really getting tired of this brat’s voice. “Because he’s the third kid to join, and you’re the fourth. Now be happy I gave you a name and quit complaining. We were working on homework before you two showed up, so if you have any, you should start on it.”

Four grumbles some more, but eventually sits down next to Yuma, Kotori, and Three and pulls out a book to read. Yuma and Kotori return to their own book, and Three begins on something that looks to be math, only it’s covered in drawings of sharp looking objects.

After approximately twenty minutes of doodling swords onto his worksheet, Three slams his hands down on the table, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I got it!” He turns to Chris. “You know how you usually spell ‘three?’” He doesn’t even wait for Chris to make a puzzled face before continuing. “Well, I want you to spell my name like ‘III.’”

“You want me to spell your name like ‘three?’” Chris repeats, not catching on.

“No! Like eye-eye-eye. III! It sounds like ‘three’ but it’s written with three I’s. That’s how the Roman numerals are written.” Three – err, III – turns to scribble down how he wants his name to be written, then presents it to Chris and the other kids.

“How do you spell four?” Four asks, abandoning his book (not that he was reading it, Chris hadn’t seen him turn a page since he opened it).

“Four is spelt with one eye and one vee. Eye-vee makes four.” III writes IV down onto the page, and Four’s eyes light up.

“Oh! From now on, I want you all to call me IV!”

“But you’re already Four,” Chris sees where this is going and he honestly doesn’t understand why this is so significant.

“No, no, I want it to be IV, like that,” IV points at his new name written on the paper. “It’s cooler like that.”

_Why can’t you two just tell me your names,_ Chris thinks, hating how overly complicated this whole situation has suddenly become. “Does anyone else want to change their name,” Chris asks instead.

Yuma and Kotori both look to the empty spot to the left of them, faces considering. Yuma says something that sounds a bit like “zale,” but then he scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. “We’re good,” Yuma tells Chis after a second. Chris doesn’t even want to know what just went on.

“Chris, I’m hungry,” III announces, shoving his still uncompleted homework into his backpack. He stands and moves to drop his pack near his shoes so he won’t forget about it when he gets picked up later. “Mom said you’ll feed us at four.” IV looks up at the sound of his name before realizing he hasn’t actually been called.

Chris checks the time then glances over at the other kids, “You all ready for dinner?” Yuma and Kotori nod their heads in agreement, while IV just shrugs. Okay then. Chris saves off his essay and gets up to stow his laptop away in his room.

Chris quickly puts together a few peanut butter sandwiches for the kids, taking a second to scratch down a note for himself that he needs to buy more bread later, then returns to the living room and hands over the food. The kids snatch the sandwiches up and shove them into their faces, Yuma tearing one in half and setting one of the pieces to the side. The food is consumed within minutes, leaving only Yuma’s half piece left. III eyes it hungrily.

“Are you going to eat that, Yuma?” III asks, pointing at the leftover sandwich.

“Oh, that’s not for me, it is Astral’s.”

“Who’s Astral?” IV asks, sliding over and also eyeing the sandwich.

Kotori places a finger to her lips and glances around in a suspicious manner. “Shh, not so loud,” she hushes, giving a pointed look to Chris, who gets a sudden feeling that he is not wanted. Chris stands and leaves the room to wash the dishes or something, taking the now empty plate with him.

“Astral’s our friend,” Yuma explains when Chis is gone. “Our secret friend. Chris already knows about them, but he can’t see them.” Yuma gestures to the spot where Astral is at.

“Can I be friends with them too?” III asks, giving Astral a little wave.

“Of course you can. IV, do you want to be friends with Astral?” Yuma grins, pleased with the way things are turning out. It’s good that Astral is meeting new people.

“Sure, but Astral can’t eat food, can they?” All four of them turn to Astral, listening for a response. Chris pops his head into the room after a few moments of silence to see what they’re all up to and sees the kids staring intently at the spot between Yuma and Kotori. “Huh,” IV says. He takes the last piece of the peanut butter sandwich and tears it in half, handing one part to III.

“Thanks Astral,” both III and IV speak at the same time. Creepy. The children seem finished with the current conversation and Yuma pulls out the Legos, the others joining in to play with him.

***

Five minutes after six in the evening, there’s a knock on Chris’ door. IV’s been sending nervous glances towards the door for the last twelve minutes as though he wasn’t certain his parents are going to show up. Not even III’s offer to let IV knock over his Lego tower broke IV’s concentration.

IV jumps to his feet, scattering the Legos in his lap. “He’s here!” He shouts, turning to Chris. “Get the door! Get the door!”

Chris stands and does as ordered without a word, IV excitedly tailing him. Chris opens the door and finds an angry looking man with dark skin and white hair wearing a blood red jacket. Like IV, he has a scar under his eye. “Uh,” says Chris. He really needs to work on his greetings.

“Arklight,” the man greets him with a stiff nod. “I’m here to pick up my son.”

“Fo- I mean, this one?” Chris catches himself before he says IV’s new name, and he moves out of the way so the man can see IV.

“That’s him,” IV confirms, no doubt pleased that his father actually showed up. “Dad, this is Chris, he-“

“That’s great,” the man cuts IV off and pulls out his wallet to shove some bills into Chris’ waiting hand. “You’ll be watching my kid for now on, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” From the corner of his eye, Chris can see III stand so he has a better view of IV’s father.

“Dad,” IV whines, “You’re not listening to me…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” The man steers IV out of the doorway and towards the steps, completely ignoring his son.

Chis closes the door and turns to III, the only child left. Chris realizes he didn’t get the man’s name, or any of his contact information. That’s just wonderful.

“I don’t think I like him,” III says, and Chris finds himself agreeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a kudos and comment, it means a ton to me <3
> 
> Next time: hell hath no furry (or, sharks and dragons and cats! oh my!)

**Author's Note:**

> Famous last words, Chris.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you've enjoyed, please kudos and comment, it means a lot to me. There will be more chapters with more characters.


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